Blueberry pancakes, strawberry syrup
news broadcast of Bush’s war
how different the world is for us

And you Allen, did you have correct change
and are sitting on the bank of the river
dangling your feet, calloused
from insomniac narcotic walks through Berkeley
where Whitman stood under street lamps
and in grocery stores tempting you
with the body of a young boy

have you taken off your fedora, or put it on
sing me a bar of Spanish loyalist song
or read me poems
I’m no brother, I’m your son
though I’ve seen only 20 sides ‘America
can I hide among the whiskers of your beard
we can find reindeer to fly us to the moon

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